


Worth Fighting For

by Jane_Doe07



Category: Bellarke - Fandom, The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Bad First Impressions, F/M, Modern, Mystery, discusses domestic violence, fake identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane_Doe07/pseuds/Jane_Doe07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin has a new name, a new home, a new life and a new secret to keep.  As Wanda, she engages the services of one Bellamy Blake.  Former Marine, who now manages a specialized self defense training center.  Tempers flare, emotions evolve  and a mystery that Wanda must keep hidden at all costs, rises to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The keys jingled as Bellamy unlocked the large, steel doors to the training center. He loved opening the gym. It was early, quiet, rays of sunshine cascaded across the floor and the equipment. It was often the only peaceful moment he had all day. He placed his bag behind the counter and began turning on lights. He loved this place. Even when he hated it, he loved it. After the Marines, he had no idea what he was going to do with himself. Enlisting at 18, he had always believed he would be a lifer, a Marine til retirement. But the bureaucracy and bullshit were too much to swallow. 8 years had been enough. 4 tours had been enough. But then what? He only knew to do one thing, fight. Wayward and on the brink of getting himself into trouble, Bellamy had wandered into this gym. And really, he never left since. Marcus Kane, the owner, took Bellamy under his wing, trained him, mentored him and then one day he offered Bellamy a job. Fast forward five years, Bellamy, now the manager, owed everything he had to the training center. So even on the days when he was exhausted, grouchy or unmotivated, he still loved this place, this sanctuary.

The front door closed loudly. Bellamy turned to see Nathan Miller, his co-worker and best friend, walking into the gym. "Morning, Miller," Bellamy called to him. Nathan unenthusiastically grumbled a response. Unlike Bellamy, Miller was not a morning person.  
He could hear his friend cursing at the ancient coffee machine in the break room. Bellamy walked to the front desk and began logging onto the computer, seeing what the day had in store for them. Reading the screen, he frowned and turned to Miller,

"Do you know anything about this?" Miller approached, hot coffee in hand, "Bout what?" His eyes still glazed over with sleep. Bellamy pointed to the screen, "This 2 o'clock appointment. All it says is it's a private beginner class."  
Miller blinked a few times, waking himself up and looked at the screen.

"Oh yeah, Kane wrote that one in. Came in the other day, some blonde chick." And continued to sip his coffee.

Bellamy frowned again. It was unusual for Kane to be present in the gym, nonetheless actually take down appointments. Maybe he would call him later about it but for now he shrugged it off and went to flip the open sign on the window. Their day had begun.

 

*****

 

Hours later, Bellamy was working a heavy bag (punching bag), trying to burn off some energy before his next appointment came in. The mystery appointment. Bellamy had called Kane but his response only left him more confused. He told Bellamy that she was a private client, that she wanted to learn advanced self-defense and that her name was Wanda. Not atypical. But _THEN_   Kane added, "And Bellamy, don't ask her any questions. Keep it to the lesson. That's it."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He had two dozen private clients, none of which Kane took a special interest in and none of which he was instructed not to ask any questions to. In five years he couldn't recall a similar situation, it was unprecedented. And that irritated Bellamy. Kane was supposed to be his partner in this business, they shared things. So what were he and this woman, hiding? Who the hell was she??

As if one cue, the door to the private instruction room opened and Miller entered, followed closely by a head of blonde.  
Bellamy grabbed a towel and wiped his face and hands before throwing on the blue t-shirt he had previously discarded.

"And this is Bellamy Blake, the instructor Mr. Kane told you about." Miller gestured to him.

Bellamy finally turned and looked at his new pupil. _She didn't look like a Wanda_.

He offered his hand to the short, curvaceous woman. Wanda then looked up at him, steely blue eyes trapping his. They were guarded, full of suspicion but also strength. Hmmm. He wondered why?

Wanda hesitated but took his hand, "Nice to meet you Mr. Blake," her only reply.

Miller looked between them and rocked on his heels, "Well, I'll just leave you both to it. Holler if you need anything, Bellamy." And with that he left, leaving the two of them alone. The atmosphere strangely charged, almost electrified.  
This was different. He had plenty of female clients but it was never this strange, this tense. He was used to clients being nervous, or shy, or arrogant. But this was different. _She_ was different.  Wanda didn't shuffle her feet or fidget, she didn't nervously look around the room or give him awkward half smiles. She simply stood there, almost frozen, almost challenging him, starring at him, a neutral but intelligent expression on her face.

Bellamy cleared his throat, "So Kane tells me you wanted to learn, self-defense?"

She nodded, still holding his gaze, "That's correct. He told me you were the best."

Bellamy smirked and chuckled at that, "Well, I can't s-"

" _Is_ that true? _Are_ you the best?" She cut him off, all seriousness, no hint of sarcasm or humour.

Bellamy clenched his jaw, frustration rising. Slowly he inhaled and exhaled, the blue eyes telling him this was something that required honesty. Looking down at her, just as fiercely as she did him, he quietly responded, "Yes."

The blue eyes crinkled and smiled at him. "Good," She said, her demeanor instantly changing, lightening. "I suppose we should get started then."

 

* * *

 

Three weeks.  It had been three weeks training that stubborn, infuriating, difficult woman.  Three days a week, she walked into the gym, ready to make the next two hours of his life as painful for him as possible.  It wasn't that she wasn't any good, she was.  Or that she didn't have the work ethic, she did and then some.  

But she was a damn perfectionist.  Most of his private clients?  The ones who just want to learn enough to get by?  They only have one, maybe two sessions a week, one hour at a time.   _HER_??  She insisted-no- COMMANDED to have three sessions per week, two hours each.  Sure the extra cash felt nice in his wallet, but in return he had to see her beautiful but exasperating face 6 hours a week.  The woman didn't stop.  She was so hard on herself, demanding to repeat a technique or  an exercise if she felt it wasn't done correctly. Done perfectly.  Nevermind what he said.  He should have had headaches from all of the teeth grinding and jaw clenching he did in her presence.  

And what the hell did she need this all for anyways?  That was still a mystery, one that he had yet to uncover.  Kane had given him strict instructions NOT to ask Wanda about anything personal.  And he hadn't.  But he was a very observant individual.  Blame the Corps if you wanted to but he noticed things that were often over looked by others.  He noticed things about her which he slowly began to piece together. 

She came from money.  Maybe not private jet-rich but definitely not middle class.  It wasn't just that she could afford the expense of the classes or her over-priced attire, it was how she composed herself that gave her away.  Like someone who perhaps had been given privilege in their life, had experienced what it felt like to be "above" others.  

She was smart.  He had more than once seen a Jane Austen or Ayn Rand book sticking out of her gym bag.  Not exactly light reading.  

She was-or used to be- married.  There was a subtle, but noticeable tan line on her left ring finger.  With no ring ever insight, it would seem she was either single, or wanted to appear that way.

She hated her name.  This wasn't an observation though, she flat out told him.  About a week after they started training, Wanda had tripped over herself and fell.  Bellamy offered his hand at the frustrated, horizontal woman, 

"Come on, Wanda.  Let's try it again."

Her face contorted in agitation and she slapped his hand away.  

"Don't call me that."  Practically growling her response at him while she made to stand.  

"Don't call you what? Wanda?  That's your name isn't it?" He was suddenly frustrated too and confused.  

Wanda stood and dusted off her yoga pants, 

"I don't care, just stop calling me that."  She said with more heat than was necessary and walked away to get a drink of water.  Bellamy wanted to yell at her.  Bossing him around, getting mad at him for literally no reason whatsoever.  Fine then.  

Bellamy put on his most arrogant smirk and crossed his arms across his chest, 

"Whatever you say, Princess."  

She rolled her eyes at that, but drank her water, not caring enough to argue.  Princess it is then.  

But now weeks had gone by with him using the nickname and although it clearly agitated her, she never once said a word.  Unlike her vitriolic reaction to her actual name.  More to the mystery.

Which led him to his final observation.  Something had happened to her.  He couldn't say what but it was obvious she was working through something.  Something that made her afraid enough that she felt the need to protect herself.   He had seen it before.  Usually a victim of domestic violence or abuse.  But that classification didn't quite fit her.  She wasn't nervous, or angry (unless it was at him).  She wasn't timid or afraid to hit back and she wasn't hyper aware of his sex.  A sex that has so often (but not always) been the abuser.  

None of it fit.  And it was starting to piss him off........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Dammit."

"Relax, Princess, try again."

His pupil grumbled in response. 

They had been working on restraints.  What would you do if your hands were tied, or you couldn't move your feet, or you had a bag over your head.  Today was zip-tie day.  

 _She_ was the one who insisted on the thorough instruction.  She wanted to work with _all possible scenarios_.  Her words.  Typically she excelled in these exercises.  But today, the small strips of plastic were getting the better of her and slowly eating away at her patience.

_And he was not enjoying that at all._

 

"This is stupid.  What you told me isn't working," she was sitting on the ground with her hands in front of her, trying (and failing) to arrange them in the way he had instructed, that would enable her to get free.  

Bellamy just calmly leaned against the wall, watching her with subtle (ha!) amusement.  

"That's because you're doing it wrong."

The Princess literally stomped her foot and threw her hands in her lap. 

"So stop gloating and help me!"  

Bellamy bit his lip, restraining his humour and took a step towards her.  Kneeling down he gently took her hands and manipulated them into the correct position.  Her hands were soft and cool to the touch.  Not that he was paying attention.  He looked into her eyes, hands still on hers, 

"Can you remember now?"  His voice came out softer than he intended.  

She pulled her hands free of the ties and handed them back to him, holding her wrists out to be restrained once more.  

"Won't know unless I try again," she said with exhausting persistence.  

Bellamy rolled his eyes, picking up the discarded zip ties and walking away,

"I think that's enough for today, Princess."

"No! I need to get it right!" She really didn't know when to stop and Bellamy was getting tired of this argument. 

"You did fine today, you will get it right next time, okay?"  He tried to re-assure her, tried to get her to understand that these things weren't mastered in a day and that the likelihood of her ever having to use these techniques were slim to none.  

"I don't want to get it right next time, I want to get it right today.  I don't see what is so wrong with that."  She was getting frustrated, annoyed by his lack of co-operation.  

He took a deep breath before responding, "Look Princess, this stuff takes time.  It takes practice, muscle memory, _mistakes._   Try and relax, don't worry so much about perfecting everything in a day."

 

Silence rang between them for a moment.  

 

"You're babying me."  He heard her voice behind him.  He turned, confusion evident on his face.

"What was that?"

She stalked towards him, a blue fire in her eyes.  

"How long have I been here?  How long have I been training?"  Her voice teetering on anger.  

"About a month.  What is this about??"  He was a mix of genuine concern and irritation.  Clients-pupils-students, they did not talk to him this way.  

"Exactly!" 

She came right up to him, glaring up at him. 

"And what do I have to show for it??  A couple of fancy tricks that I probably wouldn't be able to replicate in the real world if my life depended on it!"

_Did her life depend on it??_

Bellamy shook himself.  The goddamn gull of this woman!!  Bellamy clenched his fist to keep from yelling at - what Kane would say is- a valuable client.    

"Need I remind you, _Princess_ , that _you_ came to _us_."

"Yes I did!  Because you-" She stabbed his chest with her index finger, as if he didn't know who she was referring to,"- _you_ told me you could teach me what I needed to know!"

"I didn't actually.  Kane did."  Bellamy was glaring right back at her.  

She crossed her arms over her chest, 

"You told me you were the best." 

"I did."

"So teach me like the best.  Don't teach me like I'm in some tenth grade gym class." dropping her arms in exasperation. 

Bellamy paused.  He hated her damn arrogance, her entitlement.  He also hated that she was right.  He had been training her, sure.  But not to the extent he could be.  Not for life and death.  He was teaching her the basics, the things he taught most other clients.  Enough to boost their confidence and get a little exercise in.  There were things he didn't include in her curriculum, things that weren't standard or flashy.  Things that were ugly and savage but if necessary, life saving.  

They were not the things you teach a Princess. 

Wanda sighed and took another step closer to him, invading his space.  

"I need you to teach me like you would someone you love.  Someone you want to keep safe.  Do you have anyone like that??" Her voice soft like velvet, all traces of anger gone.  Her alluring eyes searching for his reaction.  

Octavia.  An image of his young, tempestuous sister flashed in his mind.  She was the only constant in his life.  And sometimes the only thing that had given his life meaning.  Leaving Octavia when he enlisted was the hardest thing he had ever done.  But he couldn't afford college and he needed to support her.  There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to protect his sister.  That included teaching her less than desirable defense tactics.  

So it seemed the Princesses words had struck a cord. Maybe she was right.  Maybe this is what he needed to do for her.  Maybe this is what's necessary. _To protect her._

Bellamy cleared his mind and his throat.  

"I can do that."  

A half smile crossed her lips, "Thank you," she breathed.  

"Don't thank me.  What you're asking for is a hell of a lot harder than what we've been doing and probably painful.  Are you sure that's what you want?"

She looked him in the eyes, strength and determination gleaming through them. She leaned just a fraction closer. 

"Yes. Yes I'm sure."

"Then I suppose we should get started." 

And with that he picked the Princess up, throwing her over his shoulder and began walking towards the door.  

A surprised shriek came from above him, followed closely by,

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BELLAMY!!! PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

Since she couldn't see his face, Bellamy didn't bother hiding his grin.  

"I'm training you.  Just like you wanted."

"I did NOT want to be manhandled by a GODDAMN MORON! Now put me down!"

Bellamy gripped her tighter as she resisted.  

"Nope.  You asked to learn so I'm going to teach you.  If I make it to my car with you still on my shoulder, you're dead.  Got it Princess??"

Wanda stiffened and was quiet.  Thinking probably, hopefully.  He reached the exercise room's door and swung it open, that much closer to the front door.  

The body above him began to move.  

She was smart.  She went for his groin first.  Her leg was quick as it came up and then decisively down at her target.  But he was smart too, anticipating the blow and grabbing her leg before it could do any damage.  He held her legs tighter then as he closed in on the front door.  

Wanda tried a few jabs to his back with her elbows.  He felt them, but it certainly wasn't enough to stop him.  He had a lesson to teach after all.  

He pushed the door open, walking onto the parking lot, his grey pickup in sight.  

"Gonna have to do better than that, Princess."

And finally, the Princess snapped.  All of a sudden he was holding a feral animal, being attacked with a barrage of kicks, elbows and scratches.  He had to stop walking for a moment so he wouldn't drop her.  She grabbed his hair and yanked, eliciting a "Son of a bitch!" from him.

She was vicious and strong but still only steps away from "death."  Bellamy pushed forward, ignoring the excellent jab to his ribs and the stinging from her scratches.  

At last the Princess made the move he had been waiting for.  She grabbed onto the collar of his t-shirt and pulled, hard. The fabric tightened around his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply.   

He knelt on the concrete, allowing her feet to touch the ground and he tapped her arm, asking for release before he did something embarrassing like pass out.  

She did immediately, removing herself from his shoulder, coming to stand in front of him.  

"Bellamy!? Are you okay??"  She was panting from exertion but he still heard the concern in her voice.  

Bellamy coughed and rubbed his now raw neck.  He exhaled and smiled, genuinely smiled up at her.

"Good job Princess."

A pure, intoxicating laugh came from her lips, filled with nerves and pride in herself.  

"You're insane," she said with a smile and offered her hand to help him up.  He took it, an excuse to feel her cool skin again.  

"And you're not dead," he grinned back at her.  

She laughed again but bit her lip to stop herself.  Bellamy noticed her hands shaking a little.  Not uncommon.  Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.  Still, he didn't like it.  He stepped closer to her, softly placing his hands on her shoulders, grounding her, grounding him.  Her steel blue eyes looked up to his, her teeth still trapping her bottom lip.  

"You did good Princess," he repeated, the words a half whisper.  

A beautiful blush dusted her cheeks.  She put her hands on his and with all sincerity she replied, 

"Thank you."

He nodded in quiet acknowledgment.  Both silently realizing the change in the tide.  In them.  

For it seemed the real lessons had just begun.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE BE ADVISED. The following depicts or references violence, and physical/emotional trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this story! I'm really excited about the next few chapters. I know we haven't seen the story from Clarke's perspective yet, but we will! Soon! (not in this chapter though, sorry) Fair warning readers, this was an incredibly difficult chapter to write, both with the large amounts of dialogue and with the content. Errors are all mine and please be advised of the warnings posted above. 
> 
> This is my first AU fic and it's been really fun writing it so far. Thank you to everyone who left comments or kudos! They mean so much to me!
> 
> Now behold, chapter 3.....

A loud knock came from Bellamy's front door.  He took a quick sip of his beer before walking across the living room to open it.  

Ahhh game night.  Every few weeks his rag tag group of friends got together and played insipid board games till they either got drunk or passed out.  Good times.  

Bellamy unbolted and opened his door to find his friend, Murphy on the other side.

"Hey man I- JESUS!  You look like you were mauled by a cat!"  Murphy had no filter and very quickly took note of Bellamy's battle wounds from training a certain student.  

"Not a cat, a Princess,"  Miller's voice came from behind Murphy as he made his way through the door, six pack in hand.  

"No Bryan tonight?" Bellamy asked, ignoring both of his friend's comments.

"Nahh, he has an early shift tomorrow.  But he did instruct me to kick all of your asses in uno." 

"Goddammit, is it uno night?"  Murphy complained from inside Bellamy's fridge, scrounging for food.  Another knock came from the door.

"It's open!" Murphy hollered, his mouth full of leftover lasagna.  Making himself home as per usual.

The door opened and Lincoln, Monty and Jasper all casually entered Bellamy's house.  All of them his friends, all of them his adoptive family.  Greeting were exchanged, snacks were put out, beer was opened and soon they were all sitting at his kitchen table, playing a very mature, sensible game of uno. 

 

"Draw four motherfucker!" Miller threw down the card, triumphantly stopping Murphy from a win.  

"Goddammit Miller!" Murphy whined as he picked up the cards from the deck, "It's not even statistically possible how many draw four cards you get each game!"

Bellamy chuckled at his friends, rearranging the cards in his own hand.

 "So, Lincoln, how are things down at the station?" Monty diplomatically asked, changing the subject before a fight broke out.

Lincoln was a police officer here in town.  Bellamy met him at the training centre, where Lincoln was working part time as an instructor before he got hired  onto the department.  They had a lot in common.  He was a good friend.  

"Busy.  We had to deal with a string of burglaries uptown and we also have a few new officers.  Transfers from out of state."

"Captain Indra assign you a new partner yet?"  Bellamy asked, with interest.  Lincoln's last partner, Anya, was shot during a hostage situation and left the force thereafter.  He knew how much that had affected Lincoln.  Maybe one of these new recruits would be a good fit.

"Negative.  She wanted to pair me up with one of the transfers, a guy named Emerson, but he seems like kind of a dick so I told her no."  Bellamy nodded in understanding.

"Sorry Jasper, skip a turn," Lincoln said as he put down his card.

Jasper looked between the card and Lincoln, "I thought we were friends man."  Everyone chuckled at his dramatics.   

Lincoln cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"So where's Octavia tonight?" He asked, not meeting Bellamy's eyes.  

Bellamy sighed.  He saw that coming.  He had noticed how the two of them sought each other out more and more during these get togethers.  How they exchanged smiles and laughs.  How his sister's eyes lit up when she saw him.  It was usually just the guys, but since Octavia lived with him, she joined in a few times.  Those times becoming more and more frequent.  It wasn't that Bellamy was opposed to the match.  Lincoln was a great guy and he knew he could trust him, but he _was_ almost ten years older than his 22 year old sister and Octavia was still very young in a lot of ways.  He couldn't helped being protective of her.  It was his responsibility.  

"Studying at a friends, she's got finals coming up," Bellamy tried to respond casually.   It was the truth after all, but it still felt a little awkward telling him.  

Lincoln just nodded in response, probably feeling awkward himself.  Jasper interrupted by putting down an innocuous card, continuing the game.  

"So who's the Princess that kicked Bellamy's ass," Murphy ever so politely asked.  

"She didn't kick my ass and she's no one, just a student," Bellamy quickly replied, hoping to end the discussion before it really began.  

"No one is right, she's a mystery woman," Miller said.  

"Ooo, the plot thickens," Jasper leaned forward on his chair, eager to hear more.  

"Guys come on, can we just play some cards?  This really isn't worth talking about," Bellamy trying again to dissuade them.  

"Well now I really want to know.  Spill it Miller."  

Why was he friends with Murphy again?

Miller looked at Bellamy with a touch of sympathy but continued talking, "She's just this client Kane set Bellamy up with.  But we aren't allowed to ask her any personal questions or why she wants to be trained. She takes like 3 sessions a week and they both end up looking like that," Miller gestured to Bellamy's appearance for reference.

Bellamy put his cards down and took a long drink of his beer, really wishing this conversation would end.  

"Is that normal?  For the clients to be so secretive?"  Monty inquired, clearly intrigued by the puzzle that was the Princess.  And he was supposed to be the mature one of the group.

"No," Miller answered, "I mean we don't typically ask a ton of personal questions or anything, but it's just weird that Kane would specify the rule for her."

"When he hasn't done so before," Lincoln added.  As a former employee he knew how Kane and the centre operated. 

"Exactly," Miller tipped his beer to his friend's observation.

Bellamy was officially uncomfortable.  

"Okay, enough.  Subject change please."

"Come on Bellamy, you aren't at least a little curious?" Miller asked. 

"No, I'm not." _Lie._  

"You think she has something to hide?" Lincoln now just as interested as the rest of them, the investigator in him winning over.  

Miller shrugged, "Maybe."

"Maybe Lincoln should see if he can dig up something on her," Jasper offered.

Bellamy's patience wore out, frustration and anger getting the better of him.  He pushed himself away from the table and stood.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!! Okay guys?  Just... just drop it. Leave it alone."

He walked away to get another beer from the fridge.  The table was silent behind him.  Why was he acting like this?  These were his friends and if he was honest he was just as curious about his mystery client as they were.  Why was he being so defensive?  She was just a damn student.   _Lie._

He cracked open the beer and took a drink, trying very hard not to contemplate what exactly he was feeling for his Princess.   _His_ Princess??  Did he really just think that??

He took another drink.  

Finally the silence broke with Jasper slamming his card down on the pile and yelling, "HAHA!! UNO BITCHES!!!"

The tension broke, everyone laughing. The game continued and the topic wasn't brought up again.  Thankfully.  

When the night ended though and Bellamy was lying in bed, the alcohol a warm hum in his body and mind, he couldn't help but think back on the conversation, couldn't help but think about her.  

 

What was her secret???  And why did he care so much to protect it??

 

 

* * *

 "Dammit, enough with the nails, Princess," Bellamy grumbled in her ear as he held the feral woman in a bear hug, her back to him. 

"You said to use whatever weapon I have at my disposal," Wanda retorted.  Bellamy tightened his grip as she continued to struggle.

"True, but my friends are starting to think I piss off cats in my spare time," he said.

Wanda sighed, "Fine, no more scratching."  She sheathed her claws but didn't stop her attack.  Without delay, she elbowed him in the gut and dropped her weight, throwing him off balance, forcing him to release her.

 She was learning.  But he was still the teacher.

Bellamy quickly closed the distance she had gained between them and tackled her to the ground.  Not his most sophisticated move, but it was certainly effective, as his opponent  was momentarily subdued beneath him.

The Princess huffed her frustration, "Just throwing your weight around?  Not much artistry in that." 

Bellamy grinned at her, enjoying the playfulness. It was their normal now.  After weeks of dreading his sessions with the Princess, he now looked forward to teaching her, to seeing the expression on her face when she succeeded, to watching her squirm and pout in frustration when she didn't.  Like she was doing now. 

"Come on now, Princess, don't be a sore loser.  It's bad form."

"Who said I lost?" And before he saw it coming, she wrapped one leg around his, as her left arm curved around his right arm, effectively shattering his leverage.  She pushed hard against his chest, bringing him down and her up and over him, successfully pining Bellamy on his back, the victor on top of him. 

 And dammit if he didn't smile with pride.  

"What were you saying about bad form?" The Princess smirked above him.

Bellamy laughed aloud, Wanda's soft chuckle quickly joining his, neither of them moving from their precarious position.  Her hands firmly pressed against his chest, his hands resting softly on her hips.  Bellamy looked up into the blue eyes of the golden haired beauty above him.  A smile still on her face, her eyes sparkling with confidence and mischief.  She looked happy and Bellamy found that that made him happy in return.  What was this woman doing to him?   First he rejects all safety and convention by agreeing to train her in a rather aggressive, atypical way. Then he defends her secrets to his friends.  Now he was lying there, beneath her, humbled and defeated, and not giving a damn because her smile was worth his pride.  

The Princess bit her lip and a small blush crept across her cheeks, as if she was just now realizing just how close they were to one another.  She exhaled and slowly lifted herself off of him, holding out her hand to him once she had stood.  

Bellamy waved it off, afraid he would linger too long if he felt her skin. 

"Well," Clarke said as they both walked over to get a drink of water, "I think I'm on a roll.  What else you got for me, teacher?" 

Bellamy swallowed a cool sip of water, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's next?  Give me something else I can kick your ass in," The Princess was clearly getting cocky.  

"Are my lessons boring you, Princess?" Bellamy played into her levity, enjoying the banter and the friction it created between them.  

He was attracted to her, there was no denying that.  But what he wanted to deny, what he wanted to repress was how strongly he was drawn to her outside of the physical.  He admired her strength and tenacity but there was something beyond that, something he couldn't altogether explain.  But it was the reason he wanted to protect her secrets, it was the reason he lost his temper with his friends, it was the reason why every time he saw a shadow come across her face, he wanted to hold it and bring it back to the light.  

"Come on, there's gotta be something you haven't taught me yet.  Or are you afraid?" The Princess taunted him with a grin on her face, even as she still panted from their last bought.  Tenacious indeed.  

As per what was now the normal, Bellamy indulged her.  He took a long drink of water, contemplating the possibilities, then walked a few feet away from her. 

"Okay, Princess, show me what you got," Bellamy's arms went wide, an invitation. 

Wanda hesitated, "W-What are you doing?" 

"You've never been the one to initiate an attack, now's your chance.  You think you're ready to be a badass, Princess??" It was Bellamy's turn to goad.  If she wanted to learn something new, he was going to make good on that.  

Her eyes narrowed at his comment.  The Princess bit her lip,  considering her options, planning her first move.  Hesitation, maybe, but no cowering, no fear.  Pride once again warmed his chest.  The thought of how special, how beautiful she was, hovered in his mind. 

 

Which was quickly thwarted by a charging Princess. 

 

She ran at him with full force. If she had let out a battle cry, Bellamy wouldn't have been surprised.  When she came within striking distance, she cocked her elbow back and drove it forward, his face the clear target.  She was a frightening sight, he had to give her that.  

But it didn't mean she was going to win.

As Wanda launched herself towards him, she overcommits, allowing Bellamy to dodge the blow, her elbow missing the target, leaving her reeling and off balance.  Bellamy sees his opportunity and grabs her other arm, spinning her around to face him as he pushes her up against the wall.  

The Princess doesn't miss a beat.  Her arms come up and strike down on his hold of her, releasing his grip.  His own training kicks in and Bellamy uses the momentum of the blow to bring his arms back around and places them- _lightly_ \- around her neck.  Unexpectedly, Wanda gasps and stiffens.

And for a second, the world stops.  For a second, Bellamy sees it on her face; shock, terror, pain, death.  He sees it all flash in her eyes. A panicked doe, looking up at a predator. A person who has seen the worst of men.  A person who has survived a violence unimaginable.  

 **"JESUS!** " Bellamy drops his hands as if her skin had burned him, stumbling back from her, eyes wide with confusion, alarm and concern.  

He knew a flashback when he saw one.   _What the hell had happened to her!!??_

Wanda raised a hand in reassurance, "I-I'm alright, it's alright," she spoke even as her breathing still laboured and her other hand clung to her neck.

"Wanda, what the-" 

"It's nothing, I'm fine. Really," Wanda cut him off, eyes unfocused, taking deep breaths, trying to get her breathing under control.

This had happened to her before.  He knew it.  She wasn't surprised or even really troubled by what had just happened, by whatever terror she had just revisited. Instead she was using techniques he knew all to well, to control adrenaline, to regain equilibrium.  This had _ **definitely** _ happened to her before.  

He had to ask, 

"Did.. did I hurt you?" 

Wanda shook her head, not meeting his eyes, "No, no you didn't.  I'm fine, I swear."  She pushes herself off of the wall and walks to the table, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long drink.  He could see the colour returning to her face, but her hands still shook. 

He took a step towards her, "Wanda, we need to talk about this."

Wanda wiped the water from her lips and took a deep breath, "No, we don't." 

"I'm your trainer and I say we do.  This is not something I can just ignore!"  Bellamy knew he was coming off as overbearing.  But his adrenaline was up and he was not satisfied by how she was just trying to brush this whole thing off.  

The Princess turned to battle him, fierce and resolute, "Was Kane not clear?  Was there some sort of miscommunication?  I know what I paid for Bellamy and it wasn't for your lecturing."  

The blow stung, leaving him momentarily speechless.  Wanda bent to pick up her jacket, intent on leaving the room and the situation.  As she turned towards the exit, Bellamy's indignation hit a breaking point.

"It was him, wasn't it?  Your husband?" 

The Princess stopped dead in her tracks, slowly turning her head back to face him.

"What did you just say?" She said, almost at a whisper. 

Trepidation crept up his spine, but still he pushed, speaking as she slowly walked back to him,

"Your husband, he's the one that-"

A hand came flying.  

Reflexes had him stopping it before he even realized she had raised her hand to him.  He starred, shocked, frozen.  When he looked into her eyes he saw something similar.  Wanda starred at her hand, astonished by it's actions.  

They stood there a moment, in ear-splitting silence, his hand still holding her wrist.

Wanda swallowed, looked up to meet his gaze, her eyes a blue fire.  

"Don't you _ **dare**_ presume anything about me." 

And with that, she yanked her hand free from his, and stormed out of the room, leaving Bellamy gapping. 

_**What the fuck just happened!!??** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the second half of the chapter was a little intense for anyone. I tried to put as much warning on it as possible. I don't want to trigger anyone. 
> 
> One another note, nope! Sorry guys, you won't be finding out Clarke's secret yet! But here's a hint; our villain of choice will "stay the course."
> 
> ;) until next time!!


	4. Chapter 4

A week had gone by and the princess hadn’t shown up for any of her sessions.

The first time she didn’t show, Bellamy shrugged it off, figuring she just needed more time to cool off and make her point.  
The second time she didn’t show, he started to get worried. Maybe something had happened to her? Maybe she had been much more affected by the flashback than she seemed?  But by the third time, Bellamy was starting to get angry.

The “in case of emergency” phone number she had listed was not in service and she had given them no address. Not entirely surprising but frustrating all the same. This was an extreme version of the silent treatment. She wasn’t just being quiet, she had practically disappeared.

Bellamy was irritable all weekend, unable to get the princess off of his mind. He knew she was pissed at him and it was certainly plausible that he deserved it but that still didn’t quite explain her vanishing act. She had been mad at him before, often actually. Maybe not to this extent, sure but still. She had never wavered on calling him out and expressing her anger before, so why did she run now? Why not yell at him, berate him, tell him what an ass he was? Would that not make her feel better? _Would that not make him feel better??_

And then, as he sat watching the history channel with Octavia, barely paying attention, Bellamy had an idea. A wonderful, terrible idea.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Bellamy walked through the double doors to the police station, his stomach in knots.  
This was a stupid idea. How had he convinced himself that this was a good idea??  
In his mind he had turned around five times while driving here. But his body hadn't budged on it's course. So here he was.  
His eyes found Lincoln, sitting at his desk, paperwork piled on either side of him. Bellamy walked over to his unsuspecting friend.

“Hey man,” he called.

Lincoln turned, slightly startled.

“Hey Bell, w-what are you doing here? Please don’t tell me you got arrested,” he chuckled, teasing his friend.

Bellamy forced a small laugh.  
  
“No, no. Not today at least,” he cleared his throat, anxiety coursing through him, “I need to ask you a favour.”

  
Lincoln looked a little taken aback, “A favour?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said.

Lincoln leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest, eyes skeptical.

“In five years I don’t think you’ve ever once asked me for a favour.”

Bellamy shuffled his feet, not meeting Lincoln’s stare.

“Yeah well I am now,” he said.

Surprisingly, Lincoln sat up and became very serious.

“What do you need?” Lincoln asked.

Bellamy exhaled some of his nervous energy, grateful for his friend’s willingness to help him.

“I need you to see what you can find on one of my students,” Bellamy said.

  
“The princess?” Lincoln raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Can you do it?” He asked.

Lincoln nodded and turned towards his computer.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m going to need a name though. Something besides Princess,” Lincoln said.

Fear, guilt and doubts churned in Bellamy’s gut. But he pressed on, determined to unlock the mystery.

“Wanda Weathers,” he blurted out before his smarter half could stop him.

Lincoln typed and clicked away at his computer. Bellamy rubbed his neck, his body itching from anticipation. What horror would he find? What buried demon would lurk in her past? More importantly, what the hell was he planning on dong with whatever information he found?

The keys stopped clicking.

“This her?” Lincoln looked to Bellamy.

Bellamy eyes dashed to the screen. There, before him was his blonde, blue eyed princess. Her hair was longer in the picture, but it was her. Bellamy was half expecting her to be a ghost, for Lincoln to have come up empty. But the screen didn’t lie. It was her.

“Yeah, that’s her. Does it say anything?” Bellamy asked, a lump in his throat. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he felt a stab of guilt. He was invading her privacy and going behind her back. He should feel worse about that. But at the moment, he was much more focused on finding her.

Lincoln clicked on the screen.

“It says she has a drivers license, birth certificate and absolutely no criminal record. Your mystery girl appears to be nothing more than a twenty something no one,” Lincoln turned in his chair to face Bellamy, “You want to start telling me what this is all about?”

“Im sorry Lincoln, I’ll-“

“Hey Lincoln, who’s your friend?” A burly, dirty blonde haired man interrupted Bellamy.  He walked over and sat on Lincoln’s desk, coffee mug in hand. Lincoln didn’t hide his exaggerated sigh before replying.

“Emerson, this is my friend, Bellamy. Bellamy, meet Carl Emerson, one of our transfers.”

Emerson nodded in Bellamy’s direction and took a long sip of coffee. There was a short awkward silence before Lincoln spoke again.

“Bellamy manages the training center I worked at before I joined the force.”

“No shit! You should apply here then,” Emerson made to stand, “We all know Lincoln could use a new partner, right pal?” With annoying animation Emerson slapped Lincoln on the shoulder. His eyes casually looked up to the computer screen, making Bellamy nervous, prompting his reply.

“Thanks. But I’m good where I’m at.”

Emerson nodded, smacked Lincoln’s shoulder one more time and with an, “Alright man, well I’ll catch up with you later,” he left their vicinity.  Finally.

Bellamy watched the man walk away, then returned his focus to Lincoln.

“Is there an address or a phone number listed in that file?” He asked.

More clicking.

“No phone number, but there’s an address,” Lincoln grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted down the address, handing it to Bellamy.

Bellamy shoved the paper into his pocket, without looking at it, eager to leave. _Eager to find her._

“Thanks man, I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem, but Bellamy,” Lincoln was serious again, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Getting there,” Bellamy replied, “I’ll see you later, thanks again.”

And with that, he headed towards the exit, his thoughts solely on the piece of paper burning in his pocket and where it would lead him.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke leaned her head against the elevator wall, the mechanical whir, humming in her ear as she let the day wash over her, grateful to be home.

Home. In her recent history, home had been such an abstract concept. It was an impossible achievement and a painful memory.  
But in the past few weeks, she had really begun to settle in. She found an apartment she loved, all old brick and windows, she was finally getting a routine down and she had even made a few……friends?? Her new life here was truly beginning to take shape.

It was a problem.

Any normal person would have found contentment, even happiness in her situation. But for Clarke, contentment meant complacency and that was a dangerous thing.

The elevator dinged, signalling she had arrived at her floor. Clarke adjusted the purse on her shoulder and stepped off of the elevator. She was halfway down the hall before she looked up and saw a figure sitting by her door. Clarke stilled.  
Her heart suddenly racing. Slowly she reached into her purse where a can of pepper spray was stashed, her other hand gripped her phone, her thumb now hovering over a contact, ready to press send. It wasn’t 911.

But then the figure shifted and a familiar, rugged face turned towards her.

_Bellamy??_

What the hell was he doing here? How the hell had he found her??  All questions she should have been asking, but instead she could only manage to get out,

“Hi.”

Bellamy shot to his feet, brushing off the dust and dirt from sitting on the floor.

“Ughhh, hey. Umm, sorry if I, uh scarred you,” He was clearly nervous.

“You didn’t,” she lied. Well, half lied. The moment she recognized his face, her fear and alarm had evaporated. Only a warm buzzing in her stomach and a still racing heart remained. Which she carefully ignored as she walked towards her apartment door, retrieving the keys from her purse. Bellamy anxiously ran his hand through his dark curls and straightened his shoulders, seemingly mustering up his courage for a conversation she was sure neither of them wanted to have.

“I’m sorry to come by like this, but I needed to-“

“Wanda?” A feminine voice called out from behind Bellamy.

Clarke restrained the cringe she felt when hearing her alias and looked over Bellamy’s shoulder to find her neighbour, Raven, curiously looking between her and Bellamy.

“Everything okay?” She asked. 

Of course she would be worried. Clarke _never_ had anyone over, except her. Bellamy turned to face the gorgeous, golden brunette who had a laundry bin perched on her hip.

“We’re fine Raven, really.” She gave her as an encouraging of a smile as she could manage.

The woman still eyed Bellamy skeptically but nodded and began opening her door.

“Okay, well I’ll be home tonight if you need anything.”

Clarke smiled at her friend. Admittedly, when Clarke moved in months prior, she had a tiny crush on the stunning girl next door. But as they spent more and more time together, that crush had turned into a really nice friendship that Clarke had come to value.

“Thanks, Raven. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Her neighbour gave a last nod and closed the door behind her. Clarke turned her focus back to the man in front of her.

“Well?” Clarke asked expectantly.

Bellamy sighed and looked down at her, he looked tired.

  
“Can we talk? Please?” He pleaded.

The please made her frown. It would be easy to shut him down if he had been stern or angry, but he had said please. It felt sheepish to refuse. Clarke bit her lip and pushed her keys into the door knob, unlocking her apartment. She took a step inside and turned around when Bellamy didn’t follow.

“You coming in? Or do you want to sulk outside my door some more?” She asked, half joke half truth.

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed but a small smirk grew on his lips as he walked through the threshold.

“I wasn’t sulking, I was waiting,” In a more serious tone, he continued, “You were a no call-no show for over a week Wanda, we got worried.”

 _We_? Or _him_? And why did the distinction matter to her?

Ignoring his comment, Clarke tossed her keys and purse on the bureau and diverted the conversation.

“Would you like a beer?” She asked, heading towards her fridge.

It was a studio apartment, everything was out in the open, no walls to hide behind (except for the bathroom). A pair of room dividers hid Clarke’s unmade bed but other than that, her home was laid bare to Bellamy’s observations. She felt exposed.

On the outside, she attempted to portray a normal, calm persona, as if having someone in her space was an everyday occurrence. On the inside, caution screamed at her, warning her of the dangerous game she was playing. She reached inside and grabbed two beer bottles, passing one off to him before he could say no. Bellamy frowned but took the bottle from her, twisting off the cap and taking a drink as he casually looked around her apartment.

Clarke fought the defensive impulse to shield his eyes from her world. There was nothing within these walls to expose her, she had hid her secrets well and pushing Bellamy away would only draw more suspicion she didn’t need. So instead she took a long drink of the cold beer.

“So,” Bellamy’s voice came out of the quiet awkwardness.

“So?” Clarke replied. Neither of them knowing exactly what to say or how to say it.

Bellamy exhaled and finally looked at Clarke.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said the other day. It was out of line and none of my business.”

She knew Bellamy enough to know that admitting he was wrong wasn’t an easy or trivial endeavour. Bellamy’s eyes told her he was being genuine, which surprisingly, only made her more uncomfortable.  Clarke nervously fiddled with the beer bottle label, gathering up her own courage.

“Thank you,” she replied. After a moment’s pause, she continued, “And I’m sorry for……for what I did. That should never have happened.”

Clarke was looking down at the counter, she couldn’t meet his eyes. She had never been a violent person. Even with all of this training. So when she had gone to raise her hand to Bellamy- someone she was beginning to consider a friend- she was mortified by her actions, terrified by what they might signify. That the violence done to her may have trickled into her being, her soul. Clarke could hardly face herself, nonetheless him, after that.

A warm hand wrapped around her wrist, surprising her, shocking her into looking up at Bellamy.

“It would’ve been well deserved,” he said. His voice deep and quiet.

Clarke half smiled at that. He had certainly crossed a line that day and she was furious with him and the entire situation, but even she could admit, quietly and to herself, that it was good to see him again. That it _felt_ good to see him again.  
Reluctantly, Bellamy removed his hand from her arm.

“I won’t ask you any questions again, I promise. Your past is your own,” Bellamy told her.

He was saying all the right things, everything to make her trust him. It was devastating.

“But,” he slowly placed his beer down and took a few steps closer to her, invading her space, making her feel warm, making her feel on edge, “But I want you to know, that if you ever need to…..” he racked his hands through his hair again, nervous and unconfident, “Look if you ever need someone to help with whatever you have going on, just…just know I’m here, ‘kay?”

  
His eyes search hers for some answer, some reassurance that he hadn’t stepped over a line or offended her. It was such a contrast to the obnoxious, antagonizing man that she first met at the training centre. She had no idea when she walked into that building just who she was going to be meeting and how much it would affect her…..

Clarke’s instincts registered the softness creeping in her, melting her defences. They retaliated.

“I’m a big girl y’know. I can handle myself,” She countered. Even if it was a cliche.  Her shoulders straightening and her chin tilted up. She couldn’t accept his kindness, she couldn’t trust him. It was far too dangerous and not just for her.

Bellamy chuckled though and back away from her.

“I never doubted it,” He said with no bitterness in his voice, “Just needed you to know anyways.”

Clarke nodded, feeling stupid for not having anything better to say to the man.

Bellamy pulled his keys from his jacket, a signal he was going to leave.

“So, will I see you at the centre next week?” He asked, as if he needed verbal confirmation that she would be there, that they were moving past this series of unfortunate events.

“Well someone has to keep your ego from exploding,” she said, with a grin on her face.

“A thankless job, I’m sure,” Bellamy laughed and began walking towards the door, “I’ll see you then.”

Clarke had remained fixed in the kitchen, but as she heard the door open, she was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to explain at least one thing to him. She dashed to the door.

“Bellamy!”

He turned sharply in the doorway, his brows knit together, looking at her with confusion and concern.

“I…” Clarke started, almost panting just from the prospect of revealing even a part of her secret. She swallowed and continued, “He was my fiancé, not my husband. And he never hit me.”

Bellamy didn’t move or make any real facial expressions. He simply looked at her, still clearly confused and probably wishing to ask a hundred more questions. But true to his word, he didn’t. Instead he nodded slowly, never once pulling his eyes away from hers.

“Thank you for telling me,” is all he said. He then turned and left, not another word uttered between the two of them.

Clarke’s heart beat frantically from her truthfulness, her stomach burned with guilt and fear.

She gently closed the door, then slid down it until she reached the floor.

What had she done.

 

* * *

 

It was the middle of the night when a cell phone ring woke him.  He was groggy as he turned on his bed side lamp and sat up. He took one look at the number and immediately answered.

“Well?”

“Sir,” a male voice came through, “She’s been discovered.”

A twisted smile grew on his face. He had searched so long for this, had done so much to achieve the only the he lived for anymore. Justice. And it seems he would have it and her, soon.

“Thank you, Emerson. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  
The phone snapped shut.


	5. Chapter 5

 

“Open the door Wanda,” Raven called as she pounded on her apartment door.   
Clarke groaned and picked herself off of the ground.  Her nosy neighbor must have heard Bellamy leaving minutes prior and came to investigate.  Clarke opened the door to find Raven with her hand raised, just about to pound on her door again. 

  
“Yes, Raven?” Clarke asked, all innocence.  The brunette in her doorway gave her some serious snarky eye and threw her hands on her hips. 

  
“Who the hell was that?” She asked.  Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed, walking back towards her kitchen to take another drink of that beer.  Raven followed her, closing the door behind her. 

  
“Start talking woman,” Raven said. 

Clarke wiped her mouth and put down the bottle. 

  
“He’s just….....a friend,” she hesitated and stumbled over what she should call Bellamy.  She couldn’t exactly explain what and more importantly why Bellamy was training her.  They had never spent any time away from the center, so could she call really call him a friend?  She thought she could, she _hoped_ she could.  Finally, Clarke looked up to find Raven staring at her with one eye brow raised in curiosity. 

  
“A friend," Raven repeated. 

  
Clarke took another drink and nodded. 

  
“Well that’s bullshit,” Raven said.  She walked around to the fridge and grabbed herself one of the cold beers. 

  
“Honestly, Raven it’s not a big deal,” Clarke tried to persuade her friend.  Raven just made a snorting sound and plopped herself onto Clarke’s couch. 

  
“You’ve been living here for months, all of the other tenants think you’re a ghost,  you hardly go out and when you do you’re vague as hell as to where and I have _NEVER_ seen you bring a boy home.”

  
Clarke walked over and sat herself down on the other side of the couch. 

  
“I didn’t bring him, he showed up,” she sounded defensive and petulant even to her own ears. 

Raven sighed and gave her friend a sympathetic look.

 “Look I know you’re a private person, I get that.  But I also know you well enough to see when something’s up.  Hey, you know, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, just don’t expect me to buy it when you tell me nothing’s going on.”

  
Clarke frowned.  Raven had always been very honest with her.  It’s one of the qualities she really admired about her.  Not just because it made her a great friend, but it also made Clarke wish she could be as honest and open as Raven was.

  
“It’s just…....it’s complicated,” She finally said.  It was all she _could_ say really.

  
Raven nodded, “I get complicated.  It usually is.  Is there anything you _can_ tell me?  I mean, do I need to be worried about you or this guy?”

  
“NO!” Clarke practically yelled out, surprising Raven and herself.   Taking a breath to relax she continued, “No, nothing like that.  He would never….”

Dropping the sentence as her mind wandered to the memory of Bellamy’s face that day last week.  How he had looked so horrified, so concerned, almost frightened.  She remembered the agonizing softness in his voice when he asked if he had hurt her. 

“…..No, Raven, you don’t need to be worried,” she finally finished. 

  
Raven was quiet, trying to gauge her friend. “Do you like this guy?” She asked, her voice becoming quiet, like she was asking about a secret. 

  
Clarke forced out a laugh, “Do I like him? What are we in 5th grade?”

  
“That’s not a no,” Raven countered. 

  
“That’s because we are changing the subject.  How was your day?”

  
Raven laughed and sipped her beer.  “Okay, you win, but I reserve the right to pry about this mystery man later.”

  
Clarke rolled her eyes but continued listening as her friend talked about her day.   
Later, when Raven had left for the night and Clarke was tidying up her kitchen, she paused as she grabbed Bellamy’s half empty bottle of beer.  What was she doing with him?  She should have made him go, she should never have let him into her home and she should NOT be getting butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him soon. 

  
It had bad news written all over it.  He had seen too much, too much of her home, too much of her past too much of HER.  It would be foolish of her to see him again and give him more opportunity to put the scattered pieces of her past together.  He was smart.  Eventually he could figure it out.  But beneath that, beneath it all, guilt resided in her heart.  She didn’t want to lie to him.  Not just because it violated whatever trust they had between each other, but also because she was sick of pretending.  She didn’t want to be Wanda around him, she wanted to be Clarke.

  
She drained the bottle in the sink and tossed it in the trash.  For now at least, she would ignore the danger that was Bellamy Blake.  She still needed him.  She still needed to learn.  Still needed to fight.  She was a grown woman, she could put away her selfish desires.  She could and WOULD compartmentalize. 

He was her teacher, and she was there to learn.  It was that simple. 

  
Right?

 

* * *

  
 

Right on time a knock came from the front door  of the training centre.  Bellamy moved from his place behind the counter to unlock the door and let Wanda in. 

  
“Hey, come on in,” He said as he held the door open for her. 

  
“Thanks,” she replied, giving him a quick half smile. 

  
“Sorry it had to be after hours.  All the time slots for the day were booked up,” Bellamy said as he locked the door again.   
It wasn’t entirely abnormal.  They had previous sessions after hours before.  But now, after everything, being alone in the gym with her just seemed so much more…….personal.  Which he knew wasn't something she enjoyed.  And he hated the idea of making her uncomfortable. 

“I don’t mind,” the princess said as they walked into the instruction room.   
She seemed quiet today, a bit subdued.  I guess that was to be expected as it was her first day back.  He was glad she was back though.  

As they put their stuff down, Bellamy tried to lighten the mood.

“Hope you haven’t gone soft,” he said with a smirk.

Wanda snorted, “You wish.”

But he saw the small smile on her lips and took it as a victory. That small piece of ice chipped away, they continued on with their session, mostly going through the motions, as if on automatic. She didn’t miss a beat and Bellamy couldn’t help but feel proud.  
They worked through the hour practicing holds, counter moves, and defensive strikes. Everything they did was like a dialogue, a fluid succession of one move after the next, of one scenario after another.  
They didn’t speak much, just allowed their bodies to react and respond to the lesson.

He had missed this. _He had missed her._ She wasn’t timid or scared, she gave herself over to each lesson. Put her whole body and heart into every strike she made. She never held back.

With the lack of information Lincoln had provided, Wanda was still a mystery. She looked like the girl next door but would fight like a feral bobcat. She was smart and sarcastic but wasn’t always-or ever- open about showing it. She lived in a beautifully open and inviting apartment, but she herself was secretive and closed off.

The fact remained that he still didn’t know anything about the princess.

Except he did. He knew that her eyes went wide before every strike she threw, he knew that she favoured her right leg when going for a kick, he knew that she preferred braids instead of a ponytail, he knew that she had a hell of a left jab, he knew that even after an hour of sweating, she still smelled like spring time, and he knew that the only time she couldn’t look him in the eyes was when she was lying.

He knew her. The problem was that he wanted to know more.

Clarke slipped his wrist into a painful, successful grip and Bellamy tapped on the floor he was laying on, which signalled her to release.

“Nice job,” he said as he stood up from the ground.

He held out her hand to help her up. She took it and he pulled her up. Once vertical, the princess stared up at him as they lingered just for a moment.    
Bellamy went to release her hands, but she gripped it tighter.

  
“Bellamy, I…” she stammered.

Was she nervous? His heart sped up. Why would she be nervous?

“…I need you to do something for me.” Wanda asked, her eyes full of something he had never seen before. Vulnerability.

Bellamy knew he looked confused, but he didn’t pull back and he didn’t ask any questions.  He had made her a promise.  

“Okay,” he said softly. He had no idea where this was going, “What can I do?”

Wanda took a deep breath and exhaled. She still looked up at him and she still held his hand.  
Slowly she started walking backwards, pulling him with her. Bellamy’s brows drew together in almost alarming confusion and his stomach began fluttering. What was she doing?

Finally her back touched the wall and she stopped. Gently, slowing, she took his hand and brought it up to her neck.

Bellamy’s eyes went wide with shock. He understood then what it was she was asking of him.

“No,” he said outright, “No, Wanda.”

He tried to pull away but the princess held his hand there.

“Please,” she asked, so softly he wasn’t sure it was her. Her eyes looked almost sad, almost pained. He had never seen her like this and it was breaking him.

Bellamy closed his eyes, gathering himself.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because it needs to happen and I need it to be you,” she said the last part so quietly.

He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, as his hand lay over her collarbone, just at the base of her throat. He knew what she was asking of him and what would happen when he did. He had to endure watching her go through that once, he wasn’t sure he could do it again. Not now.

He stepped closer to her, their bodies almost touching.  
“Wanda,” he whispered to her, pleading to her.

Her grip on his hand tightened.

“Please, Bellamy,” she asked again, strength and sadness in her voice.

Bellamy let out a small sigh and simply looked at her. Her eyes were still wide, waiting for an outcome. Her lips were parted and she breathed a bit heavier, adrenaline and anticipation showing their effects. She wanted to overcome this. He knew that. She wanted to learn from and surpass her fears and probably her past. He wanted that for her too.  So much.

Bellamy unconsciously moved closer still towards her, their thighs now touching.

Finally he moved his hand, sliding it out of her reach, bringing it higher up on her neck.

  
He felt her stiffen, felt her begin to control her breathing, felt her panic grip her and felt her fight it.

His hand gently moved to the back of her neck, tangling itself in her golden braid. His thumb stroked her cheek as a tear dropped down it.

“I can’t” he murmured to her, placing his forehead on hers breathing her in.

Wanda’s eyes went wider still and more tears followed. She looked startled almost, as if confused by his tenderness, by his nearness. Her eyes ran over his face and burned into his own.

Without another word she reached up to him and captured his lips with hers. He stumbled back, shocked by the contact. They broke apart for a moment and stared at each other, both with questions in their eyes.

“Are…” Bellamy started. He needed her to be sure. He was not going to take advantage of her emotional state. No matter how badly he wanted to repeat that fleeting kiss. No matter how much it would haunt him if he didn’t.

“…….are you-“

“Yes,” she breath, stepping back into his arms, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Wanda’s hands reached for his neck and drew him in, their lips meeting a second time.

At the feel of her tongue on his lips, Bellamy let go of his restraint. He wrapped his arms around her, relishing the feel of her against him. He kissed her back with more fervor that he thought he was capable of.  Wanting to conveying all he couldn't say in his kiss.  She tasted like sweet rain. The kind you smile and dance in, the kind that washes away your bad day and leaves you feeling renewed, the kind that brought thunder and lightning and excitement as well as danger.

And god was her kiss dangerous.

She curled her fingers in his hair, pulling just enough to drive him crazy.

Finally they came up for air.

“Bellamy,” she called to him, like a siren beckoning him to his doom.

He didn’t hesitate and seized her lips once more. A small moan vibrated from her throat and Bellamy angled his head to deepen their kiss. Memorizing every reaction she had, soaring at every moan or sigh.

He was so enthralled by her mouth that he barely noticed how she had come to wrap herself around him, practically climbing him.

When her hips met his, he finally became aware of their entanglement. He didn’t wait for an invitation as he grabbed her thighs and lifted her off the ground. Adoring the weight of her in his arms, wishing he could carry all of her fears as well.  Without a second hesitation, Wanda wrapped her legs around him, kissing him deeper, harder, with more urgency.  

He walked them to the table and gently placed her down. Wanda held his shirt as she laid herself on the table top, bringing him down with her.

  
He kissed and kissed and kissed her. Until their lips tingled, until he had no notion of an outside world, until all he could see and smell and touch was her. Until she whispered, sensually in his ear,

“Please Bellamy.”

And then he kissed her more……..

 

* * *

 

 

Buried in Bellamy’s gym bag, ringer on silent, a phone call went to voicemail.

_“Bellamy? Hey man it’s Lincoln, you need to call me back as soon as you get this. I just got out of a meeting with Captain Indra. I’m being suspended for interfering with a goddamn federal investigation. Look I don’t know what’s going on and I sure as hell don’t know the details, but your princess isn’t who she says she is. Call me when you get this…..”_

Click.


	6. Chapter 6

The phone rang and rang in Cage’s ear as he waited impatiently. He was quite done with waiting. The ringing stopped.

“Sir? You shouldn’t be calling, it’s not safe.”

“It’s safe enough. Did you get the package?” Cage asked.

“Yes, when did you want me to deliver it?”

“Immediately,” Cage replied, his eagerness growing with every minute. He was so close, so close to her.

“Copy that. But sir?”

“What is it, Emerson?”

“I won’t be able to stop them from tracing this back to me. The officer I told you about has already been suspended,” he explained, then tentatively continued, “I’ll have to go underground.”

Cage smiled slyly. “Your loyalty will be well rewarded, Emerson, as it always has been.”

“Of course, Mr. Wallace,” Emerson replied.

“I’ll make contact once I land.” Cage hit the end button before Emerson could respond. He had a plane to catch.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy was positive he was never going to be able to look at the gym’s floor mats the same ever again.

The sleepy, soft blonde stirred beside him. Both of them in some state between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was still trying to wrap his brain around what had transpired in the past few hours. Or even the past few days, or hell months, ever since she walked into his life. He glanced at her, resting quietly on his chest. The picture was such a contrast to the woman he had come to know. The serious, sarcastic, secretive person that had invaded his calm life was no where to be found, only this soft, angelic creature who was nuzzled contently beside him.

He couldn’t help grinning at the incongruity.

Her eyes fluttered open just enough to catch him watching her.

“Hey,” she said, hazily, slowly returning to consciousness.

“Hey,” he replied back, not bothering to restrain his smile. She looked around at the mess they had made, disheveled clothes and gym items carelessly tossed aside.

“Well,” she started, “That’s one way of using a gym mat.”

“And a table,” he deviously grinned back at her, casually replaying where their training lesson had taken them.

The princess smiled and chuckled, shaking her head a his hubris. She moved to sit up, taking the conveniently found blanket with her. Bellamy propped himself up on his forearms, taking in the view of the smooth, bare skin her back offered to him. Wanda cleared her throat as she looked down and fiddled with the blanket.

“I-uh, I’m sorry if I pushed you to-“

“Stop.” Bellamy said with a gentle seriousness.

Wanda snapped her head to look at him, her face a bit unsure.

“I wanted this as much as you did,” he said, needing her to understand that they had made this decision together. Wanda blushed and Bellamy’s pride bloomed just a fraction. He had made the princess blush.

“Okay,” she said shyly. Both of them clearly weren’t sure what exactly was going on between them, but at least they were on the same page now.

“Sooo, what now?” She asked him with a vulnerability in her voice that he wanted to protect so badly.

Bellamy sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what the best answer to that was. If it was his choice, his next step would be to kiss her again, to feel that rush of joy and desire. But he recognized that that probably wasn’t the best choice here. Wanda was clearly anxious about this whole thing as it was.

“How ‘bout dinner?” He suggested. It was late, neither had eaten obviously, and it would afford them an opportunity to take a step back and talk.

In public....................Where there weren’t any tables.

Shit, restaurants had tables.

They could eat standing up, right?

“Dinner?” she questioned. Bellamy smiled and sat up beside her, taking his hand and brushing the hair from her face.

“Just dinner, princess,” he assured her gently. Wanda bit her lip and nodded before replying,

“Okay, dinner then.” He caught her eyes drop to his lips for just a moment. On impulse, Bellamy reached for her beautiful face and thankfully she didn’t hesitate to close the gap and meet his lips with hers. Just a single, gentle, heartfelt kiss. Assuring both of them that this feeling was not passing. The kiss broke and they exchanged small smiles.

Wanda sighed, “Clothes would probably be a good idea then.”

“I suppose,” Bellamy replied with a smirk that seemed to be embedded on his face this evening. 

The princess laughed once more before moving to retrieve her discarded apparel. Bellamy got up as well, throwing on his boxers. He walked to his gym bag to grab a clean t-shirt he stashed there. In the process he heard his phone hit the ground, probably was onto of the shirt and he hadn’t noticed. He bent to pick up the phone, hitting the screen button to see if he had any messages.

Huh, that was strange. Five missed calls from Lincoln. He had kept his phone on vibrate during his sessions, although in this particular case, even if the phone had rang, he wouldn’t have noticed. He swiped to hear the voicemail Lincoln had left, pressing the phone to his ear, hoping nothing was wrong with him or Octavia.

_“Bellamy? Hey man it’s Lincoln, you need to call me back asap. I just got out of a meeting with Captain Indra. I’m being suspended……..”_

Bellamy froze as the voicemail continued. The words haunting him as he slowly turned to the woman the message was regarding.

_“………….Look I don’t know what’s going on and I sure as hell don’t know the details, but your princess isn’t who she says she is. Call me when                you get this…..”_

 

He could feel the blood leaving his face, his heart beginning to race and his hands beginning to tingle nervously. Like a bucket of ice had been poured over him, the message left Bellamy in a state of shock and bitter realization that he had no idea who the fuck this woman was. Wanda, now dressed, turned to him with a smile, but stopped immediately when she saw his face.

“Bellamy?” She came up to him, with obvious concern.

Bellamy just stared at her and put his phone on speaker, replaying the message. He watched as her expression went from confusion, to alarm, to near panic as she listened to the ominous message. The message ended and the silence from both of them was deafening. Finally, Bellamy broke the excruciating tension, his voice coming out course with anger and outrage,

“You going to explain what he’s talking about?”

Wanda remained perfectly still, like a cornered animal, assessing their options before they retaliated. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin to meet his ire.

“No.”

And with that one word, she turned and began to collect her things. Her reaction only worsened Bellamy’s anger, which was bordering on fury now. He caught up to her in a second,

“NO!?! That’s it, that’s all you have to say for yourself? That’s all you have to say to me?!?!”

Wanda looked tired.

“Yes,” she solemnly replied as she reached for her bag, obviously with the intent to leave the confrontation. Again. Bellamy was on the verge of loosing it with this woman.

“That’s bullshit, Wanda. You owe me an explanation, you-“

Wanda spun sharply to face him, her eyes now as cold as ice,

“I DON’T OWE YOU A DAMN THING.” She roared at him.

Her vitriolic response made him take a step back.

“I cannot BELIEVE you went behind my back like that!” Wanda was the enraged one now.

“You had a goddamn episode of PTSD, Wanda, and then you just fucking disappeared! What the hell was I supposed to do!?!?” He was definitely yelling now.

“You leave me the hell alone, that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Wanda answered his question, her voice dripping in enmity.

She turned to leave. He wasn’t having that. He put himself in front of her way.

“No, you are not leaving, we are not done talking about this!”

“Yes we fucking are. You have no idea what the HELL you are messing with, Bellamy,” her tone serious and severe.

“SO TELL ME! Talk to me dammit and tell me what is going on with you!” Bellamy pleaded ardently. Trying, TRYING to get her to concede.

But the princess was ice now as she stepped into his space, starring him down without an ounce of sympathy.

“I am walking out those doors,” her voice now quiet and chilling, “ If you want to try and stop me, you know how.”

With that impossible challenge, she moved passed him went for the door.

“Wanda stop. Wanda, PLEASE!” He called to her, verging on begging.

But she kept walking, out the doors and quite possibly out of his life…….. what had he done??

 

* * *

 

 

The tears had dried up by the time Clarke had made it home, grateful the roads were quiet so no one witnessed her blubbering. Her head throbbed. She knew she had made the right decision, for herself AND for him, but that didn’t stop the ache in her chest. She had no business getting involved with Bellamy in the first place. She should have never came back to the gym, she should never have let him into her home and she most certainly, should never have kissed him.

Crap she was going to start crying again.

For six years she hadn’t been able to get close to anyone, share her life with anyone, trust in anyone. She was so tired. Being with Bellamy had been like waking up. It felt alive and brash and wonderfully, terrifyingly real.

But it hadn’t been real had it? It couldn’t be when there was this hidden part of her she could never share. And she wouldn’t ever do that because it would only put him at risk. No, keeping him safe was her only choice. Even if she lied to him, even if he hated her.

When she reached her doorway, absently searching for the keys from her bag, Raven popped out from her door.

“Hey, Wanda! You’re home late,” she greeted her with a smile. Wanda turned to her friend, trying to appear unshaken by the day.

“Hey Raven. Have a good day?”

“Same old same old,” she told her, “But hey, a package came for you.” Wanda now noticed the small shipping envelope in Raven’s hand.

Raven handed it to her.

“Oh, thanks. Weird they didn’t just leave it in the mailbox,” Wanda replied, taking the curious letter from her friend.

“Yeah, the guy that dropped it off said it had to be hand delivered,” Raven shrugged.

Something very unsettling began to creep up Clarke’s spine.

“A guy?” Wanda looked to her friend.

“Yeah, some burly dude. Must be the new mail guy I guess,” Raven answered casually.

Clarke took the envelope and ripped it open with shaking hands. “Wanda, what is it?” Raven asked. Clarke turned the envelope upside down and something small and delicate landed in her palm. A necklace.

A simple chain with a simple, silver ban dangling from it.

Clarke’s vision began to blur and her breathing was coming unevenly. It was her mother’s necklace. Her dead mother’s necklace.

OH FUCK.

Clarke snapped her attention back to Raven.

“Raven, I need you to do something for me and I need you to not ask me why.” The look on Clarke’s face must have been so despairing because it only took a moment for Raven to reply,

“Okay.”

Clarke pushed the frightened tears down as she looked at the only friend she had known in years.

“I need you to pack a bag, and leave town, leave the country if you can. But you can’t stay here,” she took Raven’s hands in hers, “Please.”

Raven began to understand the seriousness of what was going on.

“Okay, I’ll go, but only if you come with me,” she gripped Clarke’s hand pleading, clearly distressed for her friend.

Raven’s compassion and care almost broke her. But she couldn’t allow that. She shook her head.

“No, no it has to be just you. Go see family, go on a vacation, go anywhere but here. Please, PLEASE Raven, do this for me.”

Frantic hazel eyes danced over her face,

“What about you, will you be alright??”

Clarke’s eyes watered again, but she nodded and tried to reassure her.

“I’ll be fine, but I will be better knowing that you are not here, okay??”

Raven finally nodded, “Okay. Okay, I’ll go.” Wanda couldn’t help but pull the woman into her arms, so grateful to her.

“Thank you.” They parted, but not before Raven quietly asked,

“Wanda? For how long?”

Clarke took a deep breath before answering.

“Someone will let you know when it’s safe,” she answered.

And with that ominous reply, Clarke left her friend in the hallway and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door, closed her eyes and took another deep long breath, reminding herself that she knew this day would come, that she knew what to do, reminding herself not to panic. She opened her eyes with resolved purpose.

She made her way through her apartment, stripping her clothes, tossing her bag. She grabbed a fresh set of comfortable clothing and made her way to the cedar chest at the end of the bed. Opening it, it revealed a large backpack along with some inconspicuous blankets. She lifted the heavy pack onto her bed, opening the front pouch, she pulled out a cheap cell phone.

Then she made the call she had been preparing to make for six long years.

It only rang once.

“What are you doing calling me from this line? This is not your assigned call date, Clarke.” The low, stern voice coming through.

“He’s back,” is all she said.

“I’m on my way,” the voice replied, ending the call.

 

And Clarke was left alone, in her dark, quiet apartment, waiting for the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I like my cliffhangers. But the next chapter will be soon to follow. The best- and worst- is yet to come ;)   
> Hope everyone enjoyed this!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will out....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!! DEPICTS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE!!!

It only takes minutes.. or seconds? Or hours? She can hardly tell. She jumps at the loud, solitary knock to her door.  Clarke takes a deep breath and tip toes her way to the door, phone in hand.   She knew who she was expecting, but now was not the time to be careless.  She peers into the peep hole and exhales in relief.  

She quickly unlocks and opens the door to find a tall, serious man, with broad shoulders and a severely stern expression.  He doesn't wait for an invitation and moves past her into her apartment without a word.  

"Thank you for coming, Jaha," Clarke says as she closes the door behind them, locking it.  

"Are you sure about this, Clarke?  You sure it's him?"  Jaha asks, as he prowls the room, searching.  

Clarke moves to the bureau and lifts her mother's necklace up, letting the chain and ring dangle in the air.  

"Fuck," is his only response.  

"He had that delivered to my neighbor to give to me," she pauses, thinking of Raven, hoping she was long gone, "I sent her away," she finished and put the necklace back down.  

"Good," he says curtly before turning to her and continuing, "Whoever delivered that must be working with Cage. I'll make some calls and see what we can-"

An erratic pounding came from the door.  Jaha instinctively went for his sidearm and aimed it at the entrance.  

The pounding came again. 

"WANDA??"  Bellamy's pained voice rang out.  "Wanda, please open the door!!!"

Shit. 

What in the hell was he doing here. 

Clarke motioned for Jaha to put down his weapon and back away.  "I got this," she whispered.  She stood by the door, but made no move to open it.  

"Bellamy, please leave," she called to him through the door.  

"Yeah, that won't be happening.  Open the door Wanda," his voice frustratingly determined.  

"Just go, Bellamy.  I have nothing more to say to you," she said, her heart shriveling ever so slightly.   

"Well tough shit because I have more to say, now open the _DAMN DOOR_!" He barked, pounding the door again for emphasis.  

Dammit.  This was not good.  

"You want me to make a scene?? In your hallway?? For everyone to hear?? Cause I will if you don't -"  Clarke ignored her instincts and opened the door, just a fraction.  

"This is not a negotiation Bellamy.  Leave right now or I am calling the cops," she said, the threat empty.  No real point of that anymore.  

Bellamy's surprised face found hers.  He leaned into the doorway and spoke softly, 

"We need to talk about this. Please just let me in," he said, anxiously pleading.  

It hurt her to push him away, but dammit, it was for his own good.  

"I'm sorry Bellamy," moving to close the door.  

An obnoxiously loud creak came from behind her, Clarke winced.   _Really Jaha??_

"What was that?"  Bellamy barely got the words out before barreling past Clarke and the door, pulling out his own sidearm. 

_Oh for fucksakes!_

"Bellamy!!  What the hell!!" She cried out, rushing after him as he made to clear the room.   Jaha emerged from the shadows, gun raised.  

Well this couldn't _possibly_ end badly.

"Put the gun down, Mr. Blake," he said calmly.  

Bellamy spun at the sound of the other man's voice, eyes alarmed but his hands steady on his weapon. 

"After you," he replied with narrowed eyes at Jaha.    

Clarke walked right inbetween their line of fire, absolutely done with this bullshit.  

" _ENOUGH!_ The two of you!  Stop it right now!  Put those goddamn things away!" She turned sharply to Jaha, "HE is not our enemy," then back to Bellamy, "And neither is he!  So get your heads out of your asses, quit measuring and stand the fuck down!"  

She took a few deep breaths, a little winded by the drama she was trying to control.  

A moment passed before either of them moved and Clarke was getting ready to throw something at the idiots.  But Jaha eventually put his hands up and slowly placed his pistol down on a near by table.  Not far enough that it was out of his reach, but it was an olive branch.  Bellamy followed suit and holstered his own pistol, not taking his eyes off of the other man.  

Clarke practically rolled her eyes at the two of them.  

"Somebody better start talking,"  Bellamy said, looking from Clarke to Jaha.  

"We don't have time for this," Jaha spoke to her.  

Clarke rubbed her temples.  This is not how this was all supposed to happen.  This was not at all what she anticipted.  And yet, here they were, and she was too damn tired to fight it.  

Clarke sighed, "I don't think we have much of a choice," she turned to Jaha, "Unless, you plan on shooting him." She goaded, ignoring the head snap that came from Bellamy.  

Jaha's eyes narrowed at her joke and then moved to Bellamy, sizing him up.   

"You sure you want to do this?"  He asked.  

"No, but it needs to be done," she said reluctantly.  Jaha nodded solemnly.  

Clarke finally faced Bellamy.  She gathered whatever courage she had. 

"Bellamy, this is Agent Thelonious Jaha," she said.

Bellamy's face contorted, "Agent?"

"Agent Jaha works for the F.B.I.  He's my case worker."

Bellamy's look of confusion only deepened and he took an involuntary step towards her. 

"Wanda, I-I don't understand."

Clarke inhaled, raised her chin and bravely met Bellamy's beautiful brown eyes, 

"My name isn't Wanda, it's Clarke Griffin.  And for the past 6 years, I have been in the witness protection program for fear of my life."

 

* * *

 

Bellamy felt like a cartoon character.  He could practically feel the speech bubble over his head, with large obnoxious question marks in them, and if his jaw was capable of it, it would have hit the floor by now.  

What on earth was she saying?  Witness protection?  F.B.I?  What rabbit hole had he fallen down?

Agent Jaha - who he had forgotten was even there- cleared his throat, 

"I'll give you two a minute," he continued, addressing Wan- er, Clarke, "I need to make some calls about that delivery man."  And he quietly exited the room, leaving just the two of them.  

Bellamy just stares at her.  She was visibly nervous, her eyes running over his face, trying to gauge just what sort of reaction she should expect.  He wished he could tell her.   

"Clarke?" The unfamiliar name came out rough, his voice hoarse. 

Clarke smiled, ever so slightly at hearing him say her name- her true name.  

But she sobered quickly and took a tentative step towards him.  

"Bellamy, I know, _I KNOW_ that this is  overwhelming and that you have a million questions, but I'll tell you.  I'll tell you everything if you want to hear it."  The moment of vulnerability in her voice clashed as her eyes darkened and she said the next words with sincere gravity, "But, I am telling you right now, that you would be better off leaving, this minute, take Octavia and don't look back."

 She still didn't get it.  

"I'm not going anywhere," his answer immediate. 

Clarke sighed, sad for his decision.  She motioned to a seat by the kitchen counter.  

"Then you might want to sit down for this."

Bellamy, for once, listened to her and sat down at the counter, waiting.  

Clarke took a breath, bracing both hands on the kitchen counter, her eyes fixated on an arbitrary spot.  A breath, and then she began, 

"M-my mother was a doctor.  Quite a prestigious one."

Bellamy noted her ominous use of past tense. 

 "Six years ago she was treating a man by the name of Dante Wallace.  He had cancer, the bad kind. He was dying.  For a long time they tried a bunch of different treatments, but he was still dying.  Eventually, there was nothing more my mother could do for him.   We later found out that Dante was more than just a patient though, he was a notorious crime lord.  According to the cops he had been successfully laundering money through his business for years.  Among other things.  Of course, my mother didn't know any of this.  To her, he was just her patient, and a very sick one at that.  Once my mother had broken the news to him,  that all she could do was make him comfortable, Dante made a choice to sign a DNR, a 'Do Not Rescusitate.'  It's a pretty normal thing for terminal patients, but...."

Clarke blinked a few times, her knuckles turning white from clutching the counter top.

"The day Dante died, my mother came home from the hospital pretty shaken.  She always hated loosing a patient, but this seemed different.  She said the family did not take it well, that Dante- though I didn't know his name at the time- had neglected to inform his family about his prognosis and his decision to sign the DNR.  Apparently, there had been a bit of a scene at the hospital because of it.   But she said she was fine and that she would feel better tomorrow.  My mother dealt with these sorts of things all the time, so I believed her."  

Clarke's complexion began to pale.

"The next evening we were all at my mother's house for dinner, a few friends,  and my-my fiance Finn and I," Clarke stumbled over the name.  It was the first time he had heard it.

"Dante's son, Cage, came to the house...... "

A dark, monstrous chill came over Bellamy.

".....it happened very fast.  One minute we were sitting around, talking, the next, Cage had stormed in and started shooting......I don't even know how he got in," she murmured absently.   Clarke looked so far away then, her eyes glazed over as the memory replayed in her mind.   

"Finn took the first hit.  Then everyone paniced, running for an exit, but it was no use......." she continued, her voice growing coarse, "He shot my mother, but she was still conscious when he came for me.... I think that was his plan from the beginning.  H-he....he-"  Clarke's strength finally beginning to waver, her voice cracking.  

Somehow he understood; Clarke needed to do this, to talk about her past, to relive it once more so she could find the courage to confront it. 

"He choked you," Bellamy finished for her, remembering her reaction that day at the gym, now understanding exactly what had created it.  And mortified by it.  

Clarke looked up at Bellamy for the first time since she started, his words steadying her just a fraction.  She nodded in response. 

"But you survived," He continued, almost at a whisper.  

Clarke looked back down, "I-I did, I survived, I-"  Clarke opened her mouth to continue, but chocked on her own words, her body beginning to shake, tears beginning to fall.    

Bellamy pushed off his seat and came to her. 

"Bellamy, I-" her voice came out in a half whimper.

"Shhhhh," he murmured to her, wrapping himself around her, one hand cupping her head as he gently rocked her. "Shhhhh."

Clarke stiffened for a moment before melting against Bellamy, returning the embrace, allowing the tears and the grief and the pain to wash over her.  

He knew what bloodshed looked like, he knew what death felt like and he knew what it was to be left, alone, alive, where others had died.  Eight years fighting a war had taught him these things, but none of it prepared him for the pain he felt for her, for the agony in his chest, knowing he couldn't erase her suffering.  His arms tightened around her as his desire to protect her flared.  She may not need or want his protection, but he wasn't sure he could stop himself, not now.  Clarke- the name suited her- had become so much more to him than he ever would have anticipated.   She was no longer alone.  

 After a few minutes, when Clarke's breathing returned to something close to normal, Bellamy spoke,

"What was your mother's name?" he asked her softly, stroking her hair, his cheek resting on her temple.  

"Abby," Clarke said quietly, "Her name was Abby."

Bellamy sent a prayer to wherever Abby was, thanking her for the gift that was her daughter.  Bellamy slowly pulled away, just enough so he could see her face.  

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured to her, brushing her cheek.  

He didn't offer her any platitudes as she had probably heard them all a thousand times. But he was grateful to her for sharing this horrific part of her past.  

Clarke violently shook her head, 

"Please don't thank me for that.  All I've done by telling you is put you in danger," She said, gripping his shirt.  

Bellamy looked at her, a little puzzled, "What do you mean?"  

Clarke's eyes dropped and she pulled herself away from Bellamy, leaving him bereft.  

"They never caught him, Bellamy.  Cage is still out there and he has more money and resources than you or I ever will," She explained, her eyes pleading with him to understand.  

Realization finally dawned on him.  

"You're a witness," he said.  Clarke nodded.  

Damn he felt like an idiot for not catching on sooner.  She was the sole witness to a mass murder.  She was the only one who could identify him, the only one who could testify and bring him to justice.  She was an unexpected loose end that Cage no doubt would eagerly like to tie up.  

"He knows you survived?"  He asked, the tactical side of his brain slowly coming back to life.  

"He didn't at first.  When he left the house that night, he thought I was dead, but a few weeks after I was released from the hospital, I got a package from him," she told Bellamy.  

"How'd you know it was from him?"  He asked.  

Clarke took a breath before answering.  

"Because the package was my engagement ring," Clarke looked him in the eye, "A ring that Cage took from me the night he murdered my family to try and make it look like a robbery."  Clarke's tears had dried and in her eyes now was only a determination for justice.  

"And today," she continued, "I received this," and she walked over to the bureau again and held out the necklace.  Bellamy looked at the thing curiously.  "It was my father's," she explained, "My mother wore it on this chain after he died a few years before this whole nightmare."

Clarke closed her hand around the necklace, holding it tight.  

Bellamy's brain was trying to process all of this.  He felt like he wandered onto a Law&Order episode.  This kind of atrocity only happened in the movies, right??  

"If he sent you that," Bellamy approached her, "Then it's safe to assume-"

 "He knows I'm here," Clarke finished.  Both looking at each other with a profound seriousness. 

 

 "So you really should not have thanked me Bellamy, because by telling you, I've just turned you into a target for Cage."  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is! What does everyone think of our heroine's back story? Did anyone guess correctly? Worth the wait? I had a hard time writing this chapter, only because it was difficult to find the right flow and the right words to facilitate Clarke's reveal of her past. I always say I find dialogue the most difficult aspect of writing, but then I realize that 75% of my stories ARE dialogue. Wyd me?? lol Anyways, Im sorry if this chapter triggered anyone, I did post warnings, but I'm sorry all the same if it upset anyone. Also apologies for any mistakes, I am a crap editor. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will pick up right where we left off. Should be interesting!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke hash out what their next steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry on the delay folks! I was going through a hellish move to a new home and just a lot of work. Hope you all like the new addition :)

 

He stood there, only steps away, just watching her.  Clarke had no idea what he was thinking or what he planned on doing with all of the information she had just dumped on him.  All she could do was just stare back.  For six years Clarke had lived in a sort of purgatory; unable to really move forward and certainly unable to let go of the past.  She had held everyone she met at arms length, knowing that if they got too close, she would be effectively putting them in Cage's crosshairs.  It was a lifestyle she had created out of fear, out of survival,  but at least it was a lifestyle she knew.  This- her and Bellamy- was something entirely foreign.  She had walked through the gym doors that day with no idea that the lies and deception she had cocooned herself in were about to be torn apart.

Bellamy took one small step towards her.  

"Why do you think Cage would come after me?"

"Because he'll come after anyone who knows the truth," She knew Cage so her reply like a reflex. 

"And..." she began, but stopped herself.  

"And??" Bellamy took a second step closer.  

Clarke's brows knit together, concentrating on how to explain.   She was so tired. 

She let out a sigh, "Cage didn't come after me because I hurt him or his father, we had never met. He didn't know Finn or our friends that were there that night, they were strangers. He came after us, because we were people my mom cared about," Clarke met his eyes before continuing, "My mother couldn't save the one person Cage loved, so he killed everyone she loved."

The gravity of what she had just alluded too, that she cared about Bellamy, that she may even love him, shook her to the core.  She had been so closed off, her heart a withering cold thing for years.  She didn't know how to do this anymore, she didn't know how to trust someone, how to be with someone, how to _love_ someone.  

Yet here she was.  

Bellamy swallowed, his voice coming out quiet and raspy, "Not you," he said as he reached, brushing her hair from her face, "He didn't kill you."

She could feel her body warm at his touch and fought the urge to curl into that warmth.  It was important she made him understand.  

"Bellamy, if Cage finds out about you, if he hasn't already, he won't stop at just me.  He'll come after you and Octavia as well," her eyes pleaded with his, her voice soft but on the verge of desperate. She took his hand and held it firm, trying to convey her message, "You both need to leave, right now and not come back til this is finished.  Please Bellamy."  

  He was only inches away now.  She could smell his cologne, could hear his breathing.  Tears began to blur her vision as she thought of what it would mean to put Bellamy in danger, of what it could result in. 

"I won't risk you or your family's lives.  GO.  Now." 

Bellamy stared down at her, pausing before he spoke,

 "I don't take orders from you, Princess."

Clarke tossed his hand aside with frustration and turned her back to him, slamming her palm on the counter,

"DAMMIT, BELLAMY!  This isn't a fucking joke!  Don't put yourself in serious danger for no damn reason!!"

"No damn reason!?!?!?"  

Hard fast steps came up behind her.  "Jesus, Clarke," he took her elbow and spun her to face him, "What makes you think you aren't a reason??"  

Her eyes snapped to his at that comment.  His face was filled with utter confusion and something akin to pain.  At a whisper, Clarke replied, 

"I can't let anyone else die."

"Does that include yourself??" Bellamy's eyes bore into hers, "You think I don't know what finished means?  You think I haven't put together why you wanted to get trained in the first place?  Do you think I don't care what happens to you??"

Bellamy's words unnerved Clarke, the realness of them, the truth in them, but the walls she had perfected building around her over the years stood fast.   She jerked her arm away and stomped out of the kitchen.  Halfway into the living room she turned to face him,

"Do you see that bag sitting on my bed, Bellamy?" She pointed towards the backpack she had pulled out earlier, where her life, her survival had been stashed away.  Bellamy's only response was a look of concern.  

"That's my life Bellamy, that bag right there," Clarke's voice held more anger than necessary but she was beyond the point of caring.  She took a step towards Bellamy, "Every time a piece of my past gets resurrected, every time Cage gets too close, I run."  She took another step, "Just me and that bag and I leave.  I don't say goodbye, I don't bring people with me, I just run as fast and as far away as I can.  I didn't want to be trained because I thought I would one day take Cage down.  I did it because I knew one day I wouldn't run fast enough." 

 "Clarke-" 

" I AM A COWARD BELLAMY. I am not brave, I do not have courage. I run from the man who murdered my family because I am a coward!  If Cage kills me because of it then so be it, but I will be damned if I let him take _ANY MORE LIVES_!"  Clarke was tense, breathing hard, pushing as much as she could in front of Bellamy to make him see,  "So for the love of God Bellamy, don't let you or your sister get killed because of a coward."  

 

Bellamy just looked at her.  

"You're an idiot."

Clarke gaped at his response.  If she wasn't so shocked she would've been outraged. 

Bellamy walked towards her.  

"Running away from a sociopathic murderer doesn't make you a coward, it makes you smart."  

Clarke glared at him now.  

"How can I be smart and an idiot at the same time?"  

Bellamy shrugged and stepped in front of her.  

"It's a gift."

"Bellamy why won't you just go?  While you still can?"  Clarke was so tired.  

Bellamy frowned for a moment.  

"I need to explain something to you, Clarke, and it's probably going to scare you."

Clarke wasn't sure what he could say that would scare her more than her impending fate.

"Alright."

Bellamy sighed, "I love you."

 

Yup.  That would do it.  

 

"I am in love with you.  So when you ask me to do something like leave you to face Cage alone, it's just not possible. "

 

Clarke couldn't breathe, or speak or blink.  She was frozen.  Like a computer trying to download, she just stood their, gaping at him, processing what it was he just said to her. 

_He loved her??_

"No," denial in her voice, "No, you can't." 

Bellamy looked at her with a painful expression.  He sighed, bringing his hands ever so gently to cup her face.  

"Clarke, listen to me,' he began, "This is not something you fight, this is not something you run away from.  It's something you....something you cherish and protect.  It's something you fight _for_.  So stop pushing me away, stop trying to get me to leave, because you can't.... you just can't."

Clarke was staggered.   Panic rose up inside of her.  The mere idea of someone loving her again, least of all _him_   had her skin prickling and her eyes darting around trying to grip onto reality.   _He loved her_.  It was impossible because it was so terribly hazardous, it was impossible because it was the one thing her heart had come to want in 6 years.   Could she even be brave enough to accept it??  Clarke's next words came out jumbled and frantic,

"Y-you didn't even know my real name until a few minutes ago.  Y-you can't love someone if you don't know their name." 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Bellamy's face as he tentatively brushed his knuckles against her flushed cheek,

"What's in a name?"

 

Oh great, the dolt was quoting Shakespeare now.  Clarke stared up at him with wide, confused eyes. Her heart racing, her stomach doing acrobatics, her heart fighting her instincts to run, run far away from this dangerous, wonderful man. 

She swallowed,

"You're an idiot."

"Then we'll be idiots together," he whispered to her as he lowered his head to hers, strong, warm lips finding hers. 

 

They were so screwed. 

 

The apartment door was thrown open as Jaha returned. 

"Well we have an I.D on that delivery m-" he halted as he looked up and saw the two, in a half aborted embrace. 

Clarke internally shook herself as she detached from Bellamy and turned to face Jaha,

"Well?  Who was it?" She asked.

Jaha cleared his throat, still eyeing the two of them, "The security cameras got a good shot, an officer Carl Emerson."

"Officer?" Clarke reiterated, confused.  How could Cage have an officer on his side?

 

"Oh fuck."  Bellamy said behind her.  She turned around, seeing a look of horrible realization on his face. 

"What is it?" 

Bellamy was staring at the floor, his fists clenching. 

"Bellamy??" She reached out, placing a hand on his arm. 

He looked to her then, face grim. 

"This is all my fault," he said. 

Clarke frowned, confused.

"What-"

"He found you because of me, because I went to Lincoln at the police station and got him to look up where you lived.  Emerson was there, he saw."  The raw, woeful look on Bellamy's face, the guilt and fear, evident.  "I'm so sorry, Clarke."

It was a night for confessions it seemed.  It made sense, the pieces were falling together, the inevitable was finally being given an opportunity to become reality.  She should be mad, furious even, but she couldn't bring herself to be.  It wouldn't do any good now, the wheels of fate were in motion. 

 

"Well Kane will be happy to hear his employee has not only endangered himself, but a client also,"  Jaha glowered, crossing his arms, "Among other things."

Bellamy glanced to Jaha, "How do you know that name?"

"How did you think Clarke ended up at your training center?  Marcus Kane is an old friend," Jaha explained, "Why do you think he was so explicit on how to conduct yourself with her?"

Bellamy kept quiet, silently acknowledging this new information. 

Jaha walked towards Bellamy. 

"Marcus said you were the man for the job, that he trusted you more than anyone else there, that you would do what was necessary and not ask questions,"  Jaha was stern now, a fiercely disapproving scowl on his face, "He'll be sorry to hear just how mistaken he was."

Bellamy's face twisted in anger and he stepped right up to the older man,

"Tell him whatever you damn well please.  If he trusts me then he'll trust I did what I thought I had to do and I won't have my decisions judged by some stranger who thinks he knows the whole story."

"Your _decisions_ just might cost Clarke her life.  That's the only part of the story that matters to me," Jaha retorted. 

"I won't let that happen," Bellamy replied.

"And how are you planning on doing that?" Jaha questioned vehemently, "You don't know the enemy, you don't know how he thinks or how he acts.  This isn't a battlefield Mr. Blake.  You don't get to throw a grenade and run."

Angered flared across Bellamy's face,

"You're going to want to stop talking now," he growled at Jaha. 

 

"You both want to stop talking," Clarke interrupted, pulling Bellamy back a few steps to cool off, "None of this is helping us." 

"What's done is done," Jaha spoke, then faced Clarke, "We need to start planning how to get you out of here." 

 

Clarke took a deep breath, 

"I'm not leaving."

Two sets of outraged eyes fell on her. 

"What? Clarke?" Bellamy turned her to him, his face asking the question.

"This is not a negotiation, Clarke," Jaha's unbending voice came.  

She looked at Bellamy with sympathy but then turned to Jaha.  

"Yes it is.  It is my life, Jaha, it's my choice."

Agent Jaha didn't look any less pleased by her statement.  

"Not if but _**WHEN**_ he finds you, Clarke, he _will_ kill you," He explained, "And this time, he will make sure of it."

 

Clarke inhaled and looked between the two men, a light in her intelligent eyes. 

 

"Not if we kill him first."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
